ave a special key?"

"N--no," answered the watchman hesitatingly, "for I remember Wacker
loaned me the old switchman's key the first night. Hold on, though!"
cried McCarthy with a spurt of memory, "it comes back to me clear now.
The next night he told me to keep the key till the old switchman came
back on duty--so he must have had an extra one of his own. They are
easily got--it's a common, ordinary lock."

Bart's lips shut close. He went outside, looked keenly around, and
jumped down from the platform.

The watchman trailed out after him, watching him in a worried,
discouraged way. There was no doubting the word of a trusted employee
like McCarthy, and Bart realized that he felt very badly over the
matter.

"What is it, Stirling--have you found anything?" asked the watchman
eagerly, as Bart, after inspecting the roadway, still more narrowly
regarded the edges of the platform boards, running his finger over them
in a critical way.

"Yes, I have," announced Bart--"that trunk was taken away from here in a
wagon."

"How do you know?"

"Look at those fresh wheel tracks," directed Bart, pointing to the road.
"They sided a wagon up to the platform, right here. So close, that a
wheel or the body of the wagon scraped along the edges of the boards.
The paint was fresh. And it was bright red," added Bart.

"You're a good one to guess that out," muttered the watchman. "Why,
say--"

McCarthy gave a prodigious start and put his hand up to his head, as if
some idea had occurred to him with tremendous force. "You mentioned Lem
Wacker. It's funny, but last week Wacker bought a new wagon."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes, it was the same one that his scapegrace nephew, Dale Wacker, was
caught peddling the stolen pickles in. I saw Lem painting it fresh out
in his shop only two days ago. You know I live just beyond him."

"What color?"

"Red."

"Then Lem Wacker must know something about this burglary!" declared
Bart.

CHAPTER XVI

AT FAULT

"I am sorry," again said the night watchman, after a long thoughtful
silence on the part of Bart.

"I know you are, Mr. McCarthy," returned Bart, "but nobody blames you.
I've got to get back that trunk, though! you are positive about Lem
Wacker's wagon being newly painted?"

"Oh, sure."

"And red?"

"Yes, a bright red. Wacker lives near us, as I said. I strolled down the
alley day before yesterday. I saw his shed doors open, and Wacker
putting on the paint. I reme